


a secret whispered from the future

by somehowunbroken



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, POV Outsider, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-05-07 18:12:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14676627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somehowunbroken/pseuds/somehowunbroken
Summary: Willy likes Auston. Auston likes Willy. Mitch would just like for them to use their goddamn words already.





	a secret whispered from the future

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [Pinkmanite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinkmanite/pseuds/Pinkmanite) in the [PuckingRare2018](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/PuckingRare2018) collection. 



> **Prompt:** Will sleeps around and it's like secret common knowledge that he's kinda easy. Auston has a Crush With Feelings(TM) for him but figures Will is too cool for the relationship thing so he tries to casually hook up with him, too, since he'll just take what he can get. However, Will actually has real feelings for Auston so he brushes it off and doesn't act on Auston's advances, reasoning that he only wants to do stuff with Auston if it's real, since he's already emotionally invested. Feel free to involve any side pairings and the like, as long as endgame is Auston/Will.
> 
> TLDR; basically mutual pining where Will sleeps with everyone except Auston until they get their shit together because feelings!
> 
>  
> 
> pinkmanite, i hope you like outsider POV, because my immediate thought when i read your prompt was "oh, god, i bet mitch has to deal with ALL OF THIS." enjoy? :D
> 
> ETA: i have no idea why tis on anon, and AO3 has not gotten back to me about it. insert shrug emoji here. anyway, i'm somehowunbroken! hi!

"But what if I _die_ ," Willy says, flopping face-first across the bed, and Mitch has to press his hand really, really hard across his mouth so he doesn't laugh too obviously. Willy is the most overdramatic human being Mitch has ever met, and he's dating Dylan Strome, for the love of god.

"You're not going to die," Mitch says when he swallows down enough of his laughter.

"I might," Willy insists, face still against the comforter. "I _might_ die. You don't know that I won't."

Mitch rolls his eyes, mostly because Willy can't see him right now and therefore can't bitch about it. "I mean, sure, eventually, but blue balls never killed anyone, Will."

Willy sighs and kicks at the bed a little, but he finally turns his face away from the comforter. "I don't like feelings," he whines. "I don't want feelings."

"Tell me about it," Mitch says, and he even manages a little sympathy. He's been in the "why feelings" boat. Some days he returns there, like an unwanted five-day vacation in the middle of a really good stretch of games.

"Because, like," Willy goes on. "If I didn't have feelings, then I could just… not have feelings."

Mitch snorts. "Willy, my man, it's a good thing you're good at hockey, because your fallback career as a poet? Tragic."

"Aw, fuck off," Willy complains, pushing himself up. "You're just all smug because you know what to do with your feelings.

"I mean," Mitch says, shrugging a little. "Yes? Because I used my words, and we talked shit out. Like adults."

"I don't want to use my words," Willy says, pouting. "I usually just, like. Fuck my way through whatever I'm feeling."

"No," Mitch says as patiently as he can manage. "We've been over why you can't do that this time, man."

"Because Auston is a teammate, so I can't fuck and run," Willy recites. "And, like. It's a bad idea anyway, but I also don't want to hurt his feelings."

"Good," Mitch says, nodding. "So what are you gonna do about it?"

Willy hums a little. "Well, we're in Florida," he says.

"Yes," Mitch replies, dragging the word out.

"So I could just, like, invite myself over to Eks' place for a booty call," Willy says, springing up from the bed and smiling like that's anything like a good idea. "I can definitely fuck and run with Eks. He gets hives if he thinks too hard about cuddling."

"No, wait," Mitch says, shaking his head. "That's not what I—"

"Thanks for listening, Mitchy," Willy singsongs, leaning over to smack a kiss to Mitch's cheek. "You're the best!"

Mitch sighs and waves as Willy makes his way out of the hotel room. There's honestly no reasoning with William Nylander when he's in a mood like this; some days, he's made up of 45% hair gel and 55% willingness to ignore good advice, and when he's made his mind up about sleeping with someone, that's pretty much all she wrote. He's still thinking back over their conversation, trying to figure out if there was actually a point where it went wrong or if it had been doomed from the start, when the lock clicks softly to let him know that someone's using a keycard. Mitch manages to paste a smile on his face before Auston gets the door all the way open, but Auston barely looks at him before trudging across the room and flopping down onto his bed, exactly like Willy had not too long ago.

"You okay there, buddy?" he ventures when Auston doesn't say anything.

Auston turns his face to look at Mitch. "What if…" he says slowly. "What if I just die, Marns?"

Mitch groans and buries his head in his hands.

-0-

"It's ridiculous," Mitch says, slumping back onto the bed. "Hyms, come on. You have to have an idea here."

"I'm not getting involved," Zach says placidly, giving Mitch a look. "You shouldn't, either."

"Okay, first of all, I didn't _choose_ the agony aunt life, it chose me," Mitch says. "And secondly, they're your linemates. You should definitely get involved before it, like, makes things weird on the ice."

Zach snorts. "Agony aunt? Really?"

"Dylan likes romcoms," Mitch says, shrugging and not at all admitting that they trade off on who picks the romcom of the week when they have their Skype dates. "Come on, man, please put that college brain of yours to work here. I don't know if I can take them sighing about each other to me for much longer."

Zach shrugs a little. "Sometimes people just can't get their shit together, Marns," he says. "It happens. And it's not like it's all that surprising that neither of them can figure out how to say something."

"Hey," Mitch says, protective streak suddenly emerging from wherever it had been hiding while he complained to his incredibly unhelpful teammate. "Don't be mean, Zachary."

"I'm not being mean, _Mitchell_ ," Zach shoots back. "I'm just saying, before all this? I'd say that if Willy experienced a feeling, it would be lonely up there in that head of his, and Auston's only so chill all the time because if he let on how he was actually feeling, he'd just be constantly screaming."

"I mean, fair," Mitch concedes. "But they like each other, and I feel like _I'm_ gonna die if one of them tells me yet again all about how _they're_ gonna die of all the feelings."

Zach laughs. "Distract them," he suggests. "Put on a movie. Get a book on tape. Develop a sudden passion for, I don't know, ballroom dancing. Give them something else to think about, and maybe they'll stop unloading on you."

"Ballroom dancing," Mitch echoes, incredulous. "Do I look like I have ever considered ballroom dancing a day in my life?" Swing dancing doesn't count, he tells himself. And, like, he only ever learned how to lead, and he doesn't think him trying to spin Dylan around and dip him would go over particularly well. Mitch loves him, but he's a goddamned beanpole.

"Hobbies are good for you," Zach says solemnly. "I'd say write a children's book, but I don't want the competition."

"I'd win," Mitch says instantly, grinning at Zach. "Ugh, fine. I'll figure something out."

"Attaboy," Zach says, giving him a thumbs-up. "Good luck."

"Yeah," Mitch says, sighing a little. "Thanks."

-0-

"He's going out again," Auston says morosely. They're in Tampa Bay after their third consecutive win, but you wouldn't know it by the look on Auston's face. "Who does he even know in Tampa Bay?"

"I mean," Mitch says before he can stop himself. "Maybe he's just picking up?"

Auston sighs so heavily that Mitch can almost feel it. "Oh."

"Did you know," Mitch says, almost desperate to change the topic, "they say the rumba is, like, the Latin dancing version of the foxtrot?"

"Uh, no," Auston says, frowning a little. "Why would I know that? Why do _you_ know that?"

"Something Hyms said," Mitch says. And a quick Google search, but clearly he needs to do better here. "Dude, let's watch a movie. You pick."

Auston looks at him suspiciously. "You hate my taste in movies."

"Yes," Mitch says patiently. "Because it's garbage. You can still pick."

It makes Auston smile, at least, which is a far better sight than the moping face. "Why couldn't I have a thing for you, huh? You're a nice guy."

"I'm the best," Mitch says agreeably. "Super un-single, though, buddy. Sorry."

They end up watching some weird artistic film about sharks; there aren't any words in it, and Mitch isn't sure if the point is that the filmmaker really wants the two sharks to fuck or if the guy wants to fuck a shark, but it keeps Auston from mentioning Willy for an entire hour and a half, so Mitch is a fan anyway. 

Auston sighs when Mitch closes his laptop, and Mitch braces himself. He knows it's coming, but he still has to hide his wince when Auston speaks. "It's just… I mean. Maybe I'll do what he does?"

Mitch perks up at that. "Wait, really? You want to find someone else?"

"No, I mean," Auston says, shaking his head. "What if I, like. What if I sleep with him and get it out of my system?"

"That is," Mitch says, honestly speechless for a second. "No. Auston, do not do that. That's an awful idea."

"Maybe I'll sleep with him and he'll be so amazed that he won't want to stop," Auston says, smirking a little. "It worked for you and Stromer."

"It was a little more complicated than that," Mitch says, exasperated.

Auston rolls his eyes. "Was not."

"So in this scenario, which one of you starts crying after you clean up, and which one of you sneaks Ben and Jerry's into your shared hotel room?" Mitch asks, narrowing his eyes. "If you want the full me-and-Dylan experience, I mean."

"You guys were a mess," Auston says, almost fond. "And now look at you!"

"Because we _talked our shit out_ ," Mitch stresses. "And we didn't have sex to try to get over each other."

Auston sighs. "I know it's, like, not a good idea. Objectively."

"Good," Mitch says, softening. "Look, I'm gonna go to bat for the talking thing again. Trying to sleep with him isn't gonna make anything better, but if you tell him…"

"Then he can just turn me down," Auston says, expression going gloomy again.

Mitch smacks his head and wishes, just for a second, that he was the kind of guy who had no problems telling other people's secrets. "Even if he does," he says, trying to will Auston into hearing how much that isn't gonna happen, "then that just means you can actually start getting over him."

Auston gives another huge sigh. "Maybe you're right," he says. "I'll think about it, okay?"

"Okay, buddy," Mitch says, smiling and bumping their shoulders together. "l've got your back, okay?"

"Okay," Auston echoes, bumping him back.

-0-

"Mitchy," Willy says, voice strained and urgent-sounding. "Look, I know it's like—"

"It's after midnight," Mitch says. "Are you okay? You sound kind of stressed."

"I am _very_ stressed," Willy says, and yeah, Mitch can tell. "Are you—can I come over? Are you at home?"

"Well, it's after midnight and we have a game tomorrow," Mitch says patiently. "So yeah, I'm home."

"Oh, shit, right," Willy says. "Never mind, I—"

"Get your ass over here, Nylander," Mitch says. He'd almost been asleep, drowsily texting random emojis to Dylan for the hell of it, but Willy sounds like he needs help more than Mitch needs sleep or Dylan needs the caterpillar emoji, though that last one's a close call. "I'm not making coffee this late, but I have hot chocolate."

"Chocolate has caffeine in it, too," Willy says, but he already sounds a little less stressed out, like chirping Mitch is helping him breathe.

"Then you can have a nice cup of hot water," Mitch says serenely. "Are you on your way?"

"I'm on my way," Willy says. "I'll be there in, like, five minutes."

Mitch stops reaching into the cabinet where the cocoa powder is stored. "You live way more than five minutes away from me, dude."

"I was, uh," Willy says. "I was at Matty's?"

Mitch closes his eyes and counts to five in his head before opening them back up. "I'll buzz you up when you get here," he says. "And you're having hot chocolate. No bitching."

"Okay," Willy says, which is how Mitch knows that something serious went down.

Ten minutes later, Willy's staring miserably into his hot chocolate while Mitch patiently sips at his own. Willy's hair is falling into his face and his eyes are a little red, and as Mitch watches, he reaches up and rubs at them a little.

"If you want to sleep now and talk about it in the morning," Mitch begins.

Willy shakes his head. "I, uh. We were playing chel? And he asked me if I was gonna pick up on our next roadie or if I already had someone on call in Vancouver—"

"That is _fucking rude_ ," Mitch says indignantly.

"—and then he said, uh, that if I didn't have anyone in mind already, he'd…" Willy says, trailing off.

Mitch sighs. "He offered to sleep with you," he says flatly. "So you didn't have to just go pick up a stranger."

Willy nods.

"And you're here," Mitch goes on, "so you… what? Told him no?"

"Panicked and left, more like," Willy says, laughing a little, but it sounds pretty devastated to Mitch. "Shit, man. Remember when I thought sleeping with him would be the best way to stop all the feelings? And then I had my chance, right there in front of me, and all I could think about would be how much it'd suck if I slept with him and it wasn't the real deal."

"Oh, man," Mitch mutters. He reaches back without getting up, pulling open the nearest drawer and grabbing his Oreo stash. He pulls the film back and pushes the whole thing over to Willy. "Willy, wow."

"I just like him so much," Willy says miserably, taking an Oreo and dunking it into his hot chocolate.

"I know," Mitch says sympathetically. "I know, buddy."

-0-

Auston's expression at lunch the next day is so tragic that Mitch isn't sure he even wants to bring the whole thing up, but he's here as Auston's friend. And Willy's, even if the two of them refuse to get their shit together so Mitch can stop separating the two in his head.

"Hey, man," Mitch says after the server has brought their food. "Come on. Better out than in, I always say."

Auston squints at him suspiciously. "Are you quoting _Shrek_ at me?"

"You recognised it, so I don't think you get to judge me," Mitch says. "Whatever happened last night, Matty, you can tell me."

"Willy already did, I'm guessing," Auston says, picking up his fork and poking at the chicken on his plate. "I know he talks to you, too."

"And I'm not picking sides," Mitch says. "I'm his friend, I'm your friend. I'm here for both of you."

Auston shrugs a little, a tiny movement from such a massive person. "I fucked up, I guess."

"Okay," Mitch says. "Tell me what happened from your point of view."

"I sort of panicked?" Auston says. He picks up his knife, too, and starts cutting his chicken into really small pieces. "I meant to, like, be all supportive and shit, tell him he can sleep with whoever he wants, and instead I told him…"

"Yeah, that part I got," Mitch says when Auston trails off and glances around. "Are you okay?"

Auston blinks at him. "I mean, I totally blew any chance I might have had, and now he won't look at me, so no, not really," he says. "And before you tell me to use my words or whatever, I just want to remind you that this is the result of me trying to do that. Words are… probably not my strong suit."

"Yeah, no shit," Mitch mutters. He clears his throat. "Maybe write it down? A letter, or cue cards?"

Auston levels him with a look. "Or I can just take him running out of my apartment like it was on fire as the brush-off it clearly was, and I can start actually trying to get over him."

Mitch sighs and rubs at his eyes. He's gonna have to bring in the big guns on this one.

-0-

"When I said I wanted help, this is _not what I meant_ ," Mitch hisses, poking Dylan in the chest.

Dylan shrugs and grins, looping an arm around Mitch's waist and pulling him in. "It's gonna work, though."

Mitch rolls his eyes, but he's willing to be cuddled, so it probably loses some of its effect. "I can't believe you invited us all over after the game so you could lock Auston and Willy in your bedroom."

"You can absolutely believe that, come on," Dylan says. "Also, I invited _them_ over so I could lock them in my bedroom. I invited _you_ over so we could make out in the hallway for however long it takes them to actually sort their shit out."

"Oh, good," Mitch says, sliding his hands under Dylan's shirt. "We should have a while, then."

Half of Mitch expects something dramatic when he says it, Willy or Auston banging on the door again, or yelling, or the sound of something getting thrown, but no: he leans in to kiss Dylan, and they spend a very nice fifteen or twenty minutes making out in the hallway before Mitch's phone starts blaring _I'm On A Boat_.

Dylan pulls back, looking stunned for two entire seconds before his face transforms into a look of unholy glee. "Please tell me he chose that."

"Nah, Kappy's in charge of picking everyone's ringtones," Mitch says, pulling his phone out of his pocket and answering it. "Sup?"

"Uh," Auston says, and he sounds a little dazed, but there's no swearing. Probably a good kind of dazed, then. "You can let us out now."

"Are you sure about that?" Mitch asks, leaning back into Dylan until Dylan cuddles him again. "We're being kinda coupley and gross."

"Marns," Auston says, sighing a truly long-suffering sigh, and Mitch hides a smile against Dylan's chest. "Open the fucking door."

"Fine, makeout ruiner," Mitch says, hanging up before he can hear Auston's reply.

"Keep it up and we're gonna defile Stromer's bed," Auston yells from inside the bedroom.

Dylan shrugs a little. "If you think you're the first person to make that threat, think again," he calls back before looking down at Mitch. "Are they ready?"

"Might as well see," Mitch says, stepping out of Dylan's reach. He loves Dylan, but he also knows that Dylan would much rather distract him than see this through right this minute.

"Don't say you told us so," Willy says immediately when Mitch cautiously opens Dylan's bedroom door. He sounds annoyed, but he's smiling, and he and Auston are sitting next to each other on the bed, holding hands.

"Awwwww," Mitch croons, putting his hand over his heart. "You guys! You used your words?"

"Is that the same as him telling us he told us so?" Auston asks, but Mitch can see him squeeze Willy's hand a little. "I feel like he's gonna be smug."

"Fuck that, _I'm_ gonna be smug," Dylan says from behind Mitch. "You guys are good, though? Seriously?"

"Apparently we've been giving Mitchy, like, a million reasons to strangle us both over the past few months," Willy says. "Like. Dude, I am so sorry."

"Yeah, no, now I'm gonna say I told you so," Mitch decides. "You guys. It was agony."

"That's a strong word," Auston says, raising an eyebrow. "Agony? Really? Listening to your friends talk about their feelings?"

"No, dumbass," Mitch says, rolling his eyes. "Agony because if you would just _listen to me_ and _talk to each other_ , things would have been fine forever ago. And I tried, but no! You had to... to stare longingly at each other or whatever and tell me all about your feelings instead—"

"Definitely smug," WIlly stage-whispers to Auston.

"Figures," Auston says, not even bothering to fake whispering. "We used our big boy words, and neither of us is crying. Does that mean we come out ahead in the end?"

"There's nothing wrong with crying," Dylan says. Mitch can almost hear him raising his eyebrows. "Crying happens. Don't tell me I have to give you a talk about letting your emotions out when you literally just figured out that your whole thing for Willy is a two-way street."

"No, but if nobody's crying, then we don't have to break our diet plans for emergency ice cream," Auston says reasonably.

Dylan snorts. "Nylander, if he needs an excuse for occasional diet plan cheat days, dump him now." 

"Nah, I think I'll keep him," Willy says, looking over at Auston and smiling so widely his cheeks probably hurt. Auston smiles right back at him, and Mitch turns so he can give them half a second of privacy.

"Job well done," he says, laughing as Dylan pulls him in.

**Author's Note:**

> did i drag the mandated five-day break? GASP. would i do that?? (i mean, clearly... yes i would)
> 
> mitch's ringtone for auston is [i'm on a boat](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R7yfISlGLNU) by the lonely island. auston and his flippy floppys. (lots of swearing, so don't listen around little ears, or probably bosses.)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] a secret whispered from the future](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18034988) by [frecklebombfic (frecklebomb)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frecklebomb/pseuds/frecklebombfic), [growlery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/growlery/pseuds/growlery)




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